


Millions and More

by iwillpaintasongforlou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, BASICALLY Harry gets fucked and gets a 10K-pound gold watch, Bottom Harry, Daddy Louis, Frottage, Grinding, Harry riding louis, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Rimming, Sugar Daddy Louis, Teasing, Top Louis, harry getting fucked into the mattress, it's beautiful tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1957905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/iwillpaintasongforlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a 22 year-old millionaire who enjoys spoiling his baby. Harry is a 20 year-old hipster who loves pleasing Daddy but hates when he tries to spend too much money on him. When Louis gets back from two weeks in Germany for business, Harry is out of his mind with the need to be touched and Louis may or may not use that to his advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Millions and More

**Author's Note:**

> To the lovely tumblr user erikabearikuh! Happy belated birthday, my love <3

“Harry? Hazza? Where are you, baby?”

It’s always funny for Harry to hear Louis’ posh London accent ringing through his shitty little flat, probably because he knows that if he turns around he’s going to see Louis rounding the corner into the kitchen in a suit that costs as much as four months of Harry’s rent. He’s always so polished and perfect and smelling like cologne that Harry is 99% sure wouldn’t pass the rigorous testing he requires his own products to have gone through, and Louis completely doesn’t fit Harry’s life at all.

Which isn’t necessarily a _bad_ thing.

“There you are,” Louis murmurs, coming up behind him where Harry is standing at the sink washing dishes and placing a hand on each hip, kissing the side of his neck. “I’ve been missing my baby while I was in Germany.”

“Not as much as I missed you,” replies Harry as he leans back into Louis’ chest. It’s probably true, because no one has ever loved anyone as much as Harry loves Louis, and he’s pretty positive of that.

“But you haven’t missed me enough to turn around and face me so I can kiss you?”

Harry’s already trying to turn in Louis’ embrace with a wide smile. “Of course I want a kiss. My hands are all wet, let me grab a towel-” His voice cuts off when he realizes that the once-gentle presence of Louis’ body behind his is now restraining, his deceptive strength stopping Harry from turning and locking him in place with soapy hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“Nope, too late,” Louis says lowly. “Lost your chance. If you had missed me while I was away you would have turned right around when your daddy entered the room.”

“I _have_ missed you. I’ve been counting down til you got back,” insists Harry. He feels a little trembly all of a sudden, and it probably has a whole lot to do with the fact that Louis just talked to him in _the voice._

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” questions Louis with a laugh. He releases Harry’s hips -he’s a good boy, he knows better than to move when he’s been put where Louis wants him- and runs his hands from those broad shoulders down to that narrow waist, fingers teasing at the hem of his soft cotton thrift store tee shirt. “I’ve been using my time a little differently. Been thinking a lot about things that belong to me. Like boys from Cheshire.”

One hand goes up the front of Harry’s shirt and twists his nipple until he gasps. It’s not the _pain_ of it, exactly, that goes straight to his cock. It’s the _Louis_ of it all. He stays quiet -hasn’t been given permission to speak- and waits as Louis runs his hands down Harry’s sides, fingernails leaving tickling trails of sensation down to where his hipbones stick out of his jeans.

Louis keeps talking right over Harry’s excited internal dialogue. “I’ve been thinking about a certain Cheshire boy, actually. Been thinking about all different parts of him. How pretty his mouth is with a cock in it. How good his back looks when it’s covered in my cum. And of course his cute little bum, and how good and tight it feels when I fuck into it so hard that he comes untouched like a damn teenager.” There’s no warning before Louis’ reaching down and squeezing Harry’s bum in his left hand like an explorer marking his territory.

Harry exhales a little unsteadily, and Louis laughs at him. “If you’ve been counting down, then tell me- how long have I been gone?”

“Fourteen days, three hours, sir,” Harry answers immediately -and breathlessly.

“Impressive. And how long since you’ve had Daddy’s cock?”

“Fourteen days, six hours. Sir.”

“Mmm, my poor baby,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s neck. “You must be devastated. I know how much you need my cock. How hard you get, and how much you need to be taken care of.” He lets his right hand slide slowly around Harry’s hip until he’s palming at the now-apparent bulge in those ridiculously tight jeans. Harry bucks up into his hand and for once Louis lets him. He keeps firm pressure and lets Harry grind, lets him seek that friction his cock needs so badly.

“What did I tell you before I went away this time?” asks Louis calmly, like the person he’s addressing isn’t trying to frantically get off through his jeans just from the touch of Louis’ palm.

“That- that I don’t get to come unless Daddy’s there,” Harry pants.

“And have you obeyed? When’s the last time you came?”

“Fourteen days, six hours. I always listen, Daddy.”

“Not even a little wank in the shower?” Louis shifts his hand so that the patch of denim covering Harry’s balls got some attention, too. “Fourteen days is a long time.”

The younger man is bucking into Louis hand faster now, his soapy wet fingers clutching at the edge of the sink like it’s all he can do to stay where he’s put and not reach up and try to add to the friction.“Fourteen days and six hours, sir. But I’ve been good for you. Please-”

“Not yet,” Louis cheerfully answers, withdrawing his hand and reveling in the crushed look on Harry’s face. “What, I’ve been gone for two weeks and you honestly think that my big plans for homecoming are you dry-humping yourself to orgasm in front of a pile of dirty dishes? It’s like you don’t know me at all. Oh, stop pouting.” He grins as he grabs a dishtowel from the counter and gestures for Harry’s hands, drying them each in turn with the gentlest of touches. “Now kiss me. Properly, no half-assing.”

There’s no need to tell Harry twice -there never is. He cups Louis’ face in his hands and kisses him with all the urgency of weeks of pent up energy, all tongue and fervor and boundless enthusiasm. It takes a while for Louis to work up the nerve to pull back, but when he does it’s with a laugh. “Just like the first time.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. Listen, go get dressed. We’re going out.”

Harry cocks his head and looks at Louis in confusion and more than a little disappointment, still holding onto his  face- which he was likely to do until given express orders not to. He was the kind of sentimental sap who treasured all the fond little touches. “I am dressed. Where are we going?”

“You’re not dressed for dinner in a nice restaurant, which is where we’re going,” Louis says with a roll of his eyes. “We’ve been through this before. Like literally _every_ time I try to take you somewhere nice.”

“Well. How nice?” Harry mumbles. It isn’t that he doesn’t enjoy pleasing Louis- fuck, there’s nothing he likes _more_ than pleasing Louis- but the thing about dating a 22 year-old millionaire is that he’s got more money than he knows what to do with and he tries to do dumb things all the time like spend it on Harry.

It’s the one thing they fight about with any sort of consistency. Harry enjoys his shitty flat and going to the thrift store on the days where you can get a bag full of stuff for five pounds. Louis enjoys expensive champagne and Egyptian cotton and villas in the south of Italy. Most of the time they pout at each other for a while and then decide on a compromise- middle class restaurants with middle-range wines and weekends at Louis’ mansion instead of his _Italian_ mansion.

But today Louis is not budging. “Harry, don’t be stubborn. Please? Go put on that nice shirt I bought you. The blue one that matches my eyes. No, you don’t have to wear the cufflinks, just- would you get a move on? I’ve had this reservation for a month.”

Harry looks like he might put up a fight, make Louis choose someplace in the middle like always, but then Louis flicks his eyes down to Harry’s mouth, then to his belt, and then looks up at Harry through those stupid, gorgeous eyelashes.

He sighs. “Grey slacks or black?”

…………………

It’s really a sign of how soft Louis’ gotten in his old age that he lets Harry show up to this restaurant in downtown London without even a jacket. They’re the youngest men there by far, and a lot of bespectacled eyes shoot judgemental glances their way- for once, not because they’re two men holding hands, but because one of them has long, wild curls and is markedly underdressed.

Louis grabs Harry’s bum as they follow the hostess to their table as a precursory ‘fuck you’ to anyone that thinks about mentioning it.

“He doesn’t need a menu,” Louis quickly informs the girl before she can place one in Harry’s hands. She’s well trained; all she does is smile and wish them to enjoy their evening before she heads off, no questions asked.

“Is this another place with the menu in a language I don’t understand?” Harry asks absentmindedly, unbothered by Louis’ insistence. It’s too much work to pretend he understands French every time they go to a French restaurant or Italian every time Louis craves ‘real’ pasta. The best course by far is just to leave it to the man who speaks eleven languages.

“No, it’s in English. But I know you well enough by now that you don’t need a menu, so I’ll just order for you.” _I don’t want you seeing the prices because you’ll be furious with me and probably cry._

Harry’s actually charmed by it, but then Louis knew he would be. He delights in being taken care of, even in ways that he can take care of himself. Perhaps especially in those ways. “I love you,” he says quietly, a dopey smile on his face.

He’s got one hand stretched out across the table to Louis, who takes it in his own and then uses the other to signal a passing waiter. “My name is Louis Tomlinson, I arranged to have some things left here. Bring them to me immediately, please,” he instructs.

“Oh god, what are you up to?” sighs Harry in that long-labored way you do when you’re unsurprised but also not quite pleased. Leave it to Louis to do something theatrical to celebrate him coming home from a business trip.

It’s much worse than that, though, because the waiter returns with arms full of gift bags. “Take them away, please,” Harry groans as he snatches his hand out of Louis’ in protest, but the whole stupid staff is well-trained and they know which of the two they’re really taking orders from. Three giant gift bags are placed right in front of Harry on the table, so that he has to part them with his hands just to be able to shoot a glare directly across the table at Louis.

“Don’t be cross, Harold, you really should know me by now,” Louis says innocently.

“We had a specific agreement that we weren’t going to exchange gifts unless there was an actual occasion. And by that I mean you aren’t going to buy me gifts unless there’s an actual occasion.”

“It is an occasion, Hazza!” Louis grinned. “I’m hurt you don’t remember. It’s exactly four years ago today that we kissed for the first time.”

There’s still a trio of annoying presents with his name on them that Harry could pout about, but really he can’t. “That’s really stupid and cute,” he mumbles, blushing a little in spite of himself. “I can’t believe you remembered the date.”

“Of course I did. I’d just barely made my first million, and I thought I was hot stuff, and yet the only person I wanted to impress thought I was an absolute twat for buying him flowers that weren’t organically grown.” They both snicker at the memory of Harry’s offended rejection. “I worked hard for that damn kiss.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for putting in the effort I guess,” Harry continues to blush.

“You’re welcome. Return the favor and open my gifts, will you?”

Harry rolls his eyes but can’t hold out any longer against the gentle persuasion in Louis’ gaze. He picks the biggest bag first -better to get it out of the way- and is surprised to find nothing but a giant fluffy teddy bear. He isn’t ashamed to admit that he gives it a careful once-over before even looking up at Louis. “What’s the trick, he asks suspiciously. “Is it sewn with gold thread or something? Is there a wad of pound notes in the stomach?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry, it’s a teddy bear,” Louis scoffs. “I saw it at Tesco and thought of you, so I bought it.”

“You don’t go to Tesco. You hired a person who hired a person who _hired a person_ who goes to Tesco _for_ you.”

“Well alright then, don’t be so literal. The employee three times removed saw it on my shopping list and bought it. Close enough, right?”

It _is_ cute. Harry places it in his lap and goes for the next largest bag, which contains- “Chocolates?”

“You can check the price tag if you must, but I swear they only cost me ten pounds,” Louis says drily, though there’s a smile tugging at his lips.

The story checks out. Bag #3 is going to have to be awful, then, because it’s very small and gifts one and two have been cheap, cheesy gifts that were nothing like the stuff that Louis usually tried to get away with. And yes, the third bag holds a small square box that makes Harry’s heart stop and then come back in double time.

“Louis,” he says, a little strangled, “please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

“I can’t very well read your mind, can I?” Louis says coyly. “What do you think is in there?”

“Jesus fuck, Lou, is it a ring?”

Louis just starts grinning ever harder. “Well. I can’t make any promises. You’ll just have to open it and see, eh?” His cool demeanor leaves no room for argument. Harry’s fingers are trembling but he closes them around the velvet lid and opens the box-

-and slams it shut just as quickly. “Louis, are you- did you seriously- uh?” His voice is a squeak by the end, unsurprising given that his face is as red as Louis’ ever seen it.

Meanwhile Louis looks devilishly gleeful. “Well I _did_ say that I couldn’t promise you it wouldn’t be a ring. I didn’t specify what kind of ring it may or may not hypothetically be.”

The truth was that the little velvet box _did_ hold a ring- just not any ring that Harry was going to put on his finger and take home to show his mother. Rather it was the kind that was probably going to get used, on Harry, in a swanky bedroom or hotel room in the very near future for purposes his mother would _never_ know anything about.

“Are you done mortifying me or are there more sex toys you’d like to give me in public places?” Harry hisses, and it’s probably a good thing that gift one is still on his lap because the sudden ill fit of the dress pants Louis bought him probably would have ruined his offended expression.

But Louis knows, as usual. “Be good,” he says quietly, and he’s using _the voice_ again, “and I’ll let you play with it later. That clear, baby?”

Harry is definitely supposed to say ‘yes sir’ here but his mouth isn’t working so he just nods vigorously and hopes that’s good enough.

…………………

There are a lot of things about Louis’ cushy lifestyle that Harry never hesitates to complain about- really, what’s the point of having such extravagant things?- but the bedroom is not one of them.

If this room wasn’t designed specifically with Harry in mind -and Louis has yet to formally admit that it was- then it might as well have been. It was a sensory wonderland, from the soft carpet beneath his feet to the way the sheets always seemed to be cool to the touch and the cloud-like cushion of the mattress. He could maybe spend his entire life in this room, in this bed, and never feel dissatisfied at all.

(Even though he knows he looks out of place among the embroidered pillows when he sneaks over in the middle of the night in his hole-ridden tees and faded joggers. He’s sure of it, because he spends a lot of time lying on his back looking up at himself in the mirror Louis had installed above the bed.) (This room _has_ to have been designed for Harry.)

But for the moment Louis’ made sure Harry isn’t looking at anything, isn’t focusing on any single thing other than the feel of Louis’ mouth on his warm skin. He’s blindfolded, laid out naked on those soft sheets, never knowing where the next place that lips and body will connect. It still makes him shiver every time.

“You’re a live wire, baby, you poor thing,” Louis murmurs after the dozenth time a featherlight kiss makes Harry’s whole body shiver. “Is fourteen days too long?”

“Fourteen _hours_ is too long,” Harry says weakly. It might have been a joke, except Louis thinks maybe it wasn’t.

“I could take you with me next time,” offers Louis, knowing that it’s probably not a fair offer. He’s nipping at the soft skin on Harry’s collarbones and he knows that always makes harry positively weak. “You can quit your job at the little organic pharmacy, and move in with me and let me take care of you.”

“You know I have- oh, fuck. You know I have to feel like I’m of -fuck!- use.”

“Baby, don’t be silly. You’re incredibly useful. I’d get to have you along on all of my business trips, and you would serve the very important function of being there for me to put lovebites all over in every exotic metropolis you can think of.”

“Tempting,” Harry smiles.

“You’re too cheeky,” Louis grumbles at once, disgruntled by the fact that Harry still has his wits about him enough to banter. He wants Harry completely pliant. Undone. Like he was in the kitchen, desperate for any touch that Louis would give him and always seeking more.

Harry gets no warning before Louis is pressing his hips down on Harry’s and grinding. Louis’ still dressed from dinner, and the friction of bare skin against silk trousers has Harry going from half-hard to lip-biting enthusiasm in less time than it takes for Louis to whisper, “Tell me how much you’ve missed my touch.”

“I was afraid I was going to forget what it was going to feel like,” Harry replies unevenly, little whimpers and breathy protests punctuating his words as Louis grabs one of Harry’s thighs and hooks it up over his own for a better angle. “Been so long. I wanna feel it all again so I can remember what you feel like.”

He isn’t the only only hard anymore, and whether it’s the friction or the sentiment Louis’ starting to feel a little heady himself. He keeps his voice steady though to instruct Harry, “Tell me what you want. It’s okay, baby, tell me. Be honest.”

There isn’t an immediate response, and Louis has to stop his teasing grind and move to kiss the poor boy before he works up the nerve to actually ask. “I- can I, erm, have your mouth? Like, will you open me up and use your tongue? Please?”

“Well since you asked so politely, of course, baby,” answers Louis. His stomach is in butterflies, which should probably not be the case for someone who gets called ‘daddy’ as much as he does. It’s just that Harry has this one specific beautiful noise that he makes when Louis teases him with his tongue that he’s never made any other time, and Louis more or less lives for hearing that sound.

He sits back, then grabs Harry’s hands to pull him until he’s sitting upright. “Let’s get that blindfold off,” he says gently, making sure no curls are caught in the knots as he slides the tie (custom Versace, because nothing but the best was good enough for his baby, as long as his baby never saw the price tag) off of Harry’s eyes. Long eyelashes flutter as eyes adjust to even this dim lighting.

Louis stands beside the bed and starts undoing his buttons, but stops when he notices Harry chewing a hole through his lip with eyes wide and wanting. “Do you want to help Daddy undress?” he offered, already knowing the answer. For some reason Harry delighted in these menial sorts of tasks, being a help to the one he loved so much and who took such good care of him.

So Harry scrambles off the bed and starts undoing the remaining buttons, and Louis doesn’t bring up the way he trails reverent fingertips across the skin being revealed bit by bit. The fabric gapes open and Harry helps slide the shirt off his shoulders and then hangs it on the corner of the chair off to the side. Next comes Louis’ belt, then, heart pounding, he unfastens Louis’ pants. Louis can’t even bring himself to want to hide the fact that he’s as hard as Harry is at this point. He’s about to make a beautiful boy feel very, very good- wasn’t that a good reason for him be rock hard beneath the cotton of his boxers?

The trousers are folded neatly, just like Harry was taught, and placed on the chair as well. He drops to his knees to slide down the boxers, but he doesn’t bring them over to the pile of laundry. Instead, he’s kissing the base of Louis’ cock, one hand on each thigh gripping tight in anticipation.

But Louis tangles his hand in Harry’s hair and gently restrains him. “Hey, hey, none of that. You asked for _my_ mouth, remember? No changing your mind now.”

Harry grins so hard his dimple shows up. “Yes sir.”

“On the bed. Your back, please.”

He’s instantly obeyed and as he climbs on top of Harry, Louis takes a moment just to kiss him. Four years since their first kiss and he was still enamored with the feel of their lips moving together. He’d give up everything in his extravagant lifestyle, he thinks, just to keep feeling this.

A needy little whimper escapes Harry’s mouth in between kisses and Louis laughs and plants a kiss on his neck. “Okay, baby, I hear you. I hear you. I always take care of you, don’t I?”

“Always,” Harry says proudly.

Louis scoots back on the bed until his face is between Harry’s thighs. He’s so clean and ready for Louis, because that’s the kind of baby Harry is- unfailingly good. One thumb makes a trail from the base of his cock down across his hole, and Harry’s thighs twitch before he can stop them. “So sensitive,” remarked Louis with a laugh. “You need to relax.”

But he doesn’t give Harry a chance to relax, because he’s already got his mouth on Harry, using a tongue that’s far more skilled than any one tongue has a right to be. He’s  got just the right amount of pressure to every movement so that it’s hard enough to make Harry pant but still light enough to be a tease, especially when Louis starts pressing his tongue inside.

“Please,” Harry panted, hips wriggling as much as Louis’ restraining hands would let him, “open me up. Please?”

Louis answers just by sucking on his fingers to slick them up and pressing one slowly inside. He enjoys the change in Harry’s breathing and smiles as he still tongues at the skin around where his finger is disappearing into Harry. He moves it in and out too slowly to be anything but infuriating, and when Harry doesn’t say a word in protest he’s rewarded by a second finger.

If he lifts his head for a moment he can look up to see Harry clutching a pillow to his chest, probably to keep from touching himself when he hasn’t been given permission to. Always so good. Louis takes his free hand and runs his knuckles over the underside of Harry’s hard cock, making the pale skin of his stomach flutter in a gasp so beautiful that Louis can’t help but wrap his hand around Harry and give him the attention he’d been missing for weeks now.

Harry cries out immediately, bucking a little, and Louis laughs to himself. It must have been so hard for Harry to resist the urge to touch himself these last two weeks, when it’s obvious all he needed was for someone to treat him right. He needs a gentle touch and a firm lover to take control so he can lose it.

Louis tongue trails up  and presses hard on Harry’s perineum as he changes the angle of his fingers and Harry’s making that beautiful noise that Louis craves as his prostate is massaged from both sides. He doesn’t let up, working Harry’s cock even faster-

“You know what I’ve just realized?” Louis said wickedly, sitting up and removing all stimulation from Harry so suddenly that the boy cries out and looks like he might shed actual tears. Louis pretends not to know what he’s done. “I’ve just remembered I forgot to give you one last gift.”

“Can’t it wait until we’re finished?” Harry protests with mouth hanging open.

“Oh, we’re making demands now? Just remember who decides whether you _finish_ at all.” Louis twists Harry’s nipple in parting punishment and makes his way over to the dresser, pulling out another little velvet box, bigger than the last, and handing it to Harry.

Realization dawns on Harry’s face as he sits up. “Oh, you had to stop because it’s another toy, right? Something you want to use tonight?” He starts working to remove the little bow tied around it. “Too small for a plug, maybe beads? Or-”

Louis bursts into laughter when Harry opens the box and looks up at him with a furious glare. “You didn’t _honestly_ think I’d spend fifty pounds on you and call it a night, did you? It’s like you hardly know me at all, baby.”

“I’ve seen this in your browser history, Louis,” Harry says sternly. “I thought you were buying it for yourself, but- wasn’t this watch like _ten thousand pounds?_ You’re out of your mind.”

“Ten thousand and change, but look how gorgeous it is!” argues Louis. “Diamond-studded gold. It’ll sparkle in the sun when you wear it!”

“I’m not going to wear this. Louis, you know how uncomfortable it makes me when you spend this much money on me,” Harry mumbles, lip stuck out in a pout.

With a deep sigh, Louis nods in assent. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like for me to spoil you. It’s your decision, so if you want I’ll return the watch. Okay?”

“Yes please,” Harry replies at once, though he’s giving Louis a highly suspicious glare. “Seriously? That easy? You didn’t even fight me on it.”

“Well you’re about to suck my cock and then take it inside of you, so I really win either way.”

Louis gives Harry the chance to grin and throw the box on the floor as comprehension struck him, then makes his way up the bed to flop on his back on the pillows with his hands behind his head and legs sprawled out lazily. He’s barely settled before Harry is scrambling over to kneel on the bed between his legs and leaning forward to take Louis in his mouth.

It’s a favorite of Harry’s to spend long minutes focusing solely on pleasing Louis. So much of his time is about Louis taking care of him, being his daddy, that sometimes it all wells up and Harry just wants to prove how much he adores Louis right back.

And of course, Louis doesn’t mind it either.

“Your mouth is so much better than my hand,” he sighs contentedly, rolling his hips up a little to encourage Harry to take more. “Fuck. Fuck Germany, I’m just gonna stay with you in this bed forever.” Harry hums and Louis’ cock hits the back of his throat and his entire train of thought gets desperately lost for a few minutes.

When Harry has to pull back for a breather, though, oxygen returns to Louis’ brain and he tugs Harry’s bicep to make him crawl up and kiss Louis. “You need to be fucked, don’t you?” he whispers lowly.

The pulse pounding away just below the surface of Harry’s delicate throat quickens. “Yes sir, please.”

“By who?”

“By Daddy.”

“How do you want it, baby? Do you want to ride Daddy? Of course you do,” he purrs when Harry’s hands on Louis chest tighten with want. He strokes Harry’s curls and sits up, scooting so he can lean back against the headboard and beckoning Harry closer. “There we go,” he murmurs as Harry kneels over his lap. “Go ahead, baby. Ride me.”

Harry looks like he’s maybe not breathing all that much as he lines up and sinks down slowly onto Louis. He never lets Louis open him up too much, because he loves the feel of stretching around Louis’ cock. His whole body is trembling at the sensation, precum already appearing at the tip of his own.

Louis grabs onto Harry’s hips and kisses his chest. “You can touch yourself. Hard, slow, whatever you want. Fuck yourself good on Daddy’s cock, okay?”

One of Harry’s hands flies to start tugging at himself as the other cradles Louis’ neck. He starts moving his hips, up and down in a deep, slow pattern, and in a minute he’s a symphony of motion and sound as he kisses Louis and whimpers, fucks himself and jerks off to the feeling of fullness.

It’s been so long since he’s had any kind of touch, and after all of the night’s teasing it’s barely minutes before Harry forces his eyes to flutter open so he can look at Louis. “I’m not going to last,” he confesses, somewhere between a whimper and a groan. “I’m going to come soon.”

“How close are you?” Louis sucks a bruise into Harry’s collarbones and grips his hips harder.

“S-so close. I need to come, Daddy, please let me come, I’m-”

“Stop moving. Hands off.”

The look of betrayal is deep and sincere on Harry’s face when he obeys Louis’ commands and sits still, Louis still fully inside of him but otherwise without any stimulation whatsover. His fingernails dig into his thighs. “Did I do something wrong?” he pants, caught between worry and frustration.

“It’s just that I keep thinking about that watch I got you,” Louis murmurs as he kisses Harry’s throat. “And how much I’d really like you to accept it. So I’m thinking that maybe the only way you get to come is if you agree to wear the watch Daddy bought you.”

“You can’t do that,” Harry protests, face flushed and eyes full of need. “You know I don’t want that stupid watch-”

“Well you’re welcome to refuse my terms,” Louis interrupts calmly. “You can climb off and go lay on your side of the bed, and we’ll go back to the ‘no touching without Daddy’ rule while we wait until my feelings aren’t hurt anymore and I decide I want to make you come. Could be a while, though. Could be days. Could be _weeks.”_

“I can’t wait weeks, Louis, I think I’m going to cry if I don’t come.” He isn’t kidding. Louis can see the tears in his eyes.

He kisses that pouty lip. “So tell me yes,” he whispers, and rolls his hips.

It was just meant to be a tease but he must have found a good angle because Harry shouts and suddenly words of defeat are spilling out of his mouth. “Okay,” he pleads, “okay, I’ll take the watch. Please, Daddy, _please_ just let me cum.”

Louis lets out a victorious laugh, kisses Harry hard, and flips them over so he can give Harry what he so perfectly deserves. He doesn’t hold back anymore, fucking into Harry hard and twisting his wrist as he strokes Harry’s cock, never pausing no matter how deep Harry’s nails dig into his back or how loud Harry’s shouting gets. He owns all the land for half a kilometer in every direction anyways. _Let him scream Daddy’s name as loud as he wants._

Harry gets out, “Gonna-!” before he comes, hard, two weeks worth of pent-up sexual energy resulting in what’s quite possibly the best orgasm he’s ever had as he keeps coming and making a fantastic mess of his torso. Louis keeps fucking him and leans forward to kiss his slack mouth.

“Better baby?” he murmurs kindly, covering Harry’s face with sweet, gentle kisses.

“I needed that,” Harry says breathily.

“We all have our needs, absolutely. And we deserve to have them met. Just like I need you to come again, now.”

Harry’s eyelashes flutter and his cock twitches in Louis hand at the suggestion even though he’s literally _just_ finished the first orgasm. “Oh? What’s in it for me this time? Any special bargain you have in mind?”

“Nope,” answers Louis cheerfully. “This time you’re going to come just because Daddy told you to.”

Which makes Harry’s eyes glaze over, so that he just smiles and lets Louis keep pounding into him and stroking him gently. He looks up past Louis to the ceiling, sees the mirror throwing down their reflection , and watches the way Louis worships his flushed body with kisses and gentle caresses and open-mouthed moans about how good Harry feels until he bucks up into Louis’ touch and comes again, just like Daddy asked.

Louis can’t hold himself back any longer, because Harry’s face is twisted up in pleasure _again_ and he’s already painted with his own cum and the feel of this beautiful body growing tight around him again sends him over the edge, grabbing for Harry’s hand and grunting “Hazza!” as he comes himself.

He has to resist the urge to flop down on top of Harry and fall asleep right there, because there is seriously _way_ too much of a mess on his body for that. Instead he stands and stumbles to the bathroom for the washcloth he had embroidered with Harry’s initials specifically so that he’ll have something to wipe that gorgeous boy off with whenever he comes over and Louis makes him come undone. His legs are a little shaky, but he leans against the side of the bed as he reaches over and wipes Harry clean from jawline to thighs.

“Thank you, Daddy,” whispers Harry sleepily, eyes closed and face half-buried in a pillow.

“Of course, baby, it was my pleasure.” Louis smiles and almost reconsiders his plan before bending down to pick up the box. But Harry’s wrist has flopped lazily over the side of the bed and it looks so delicate and lovely that Louis can’t help but take the watch from its box and slide it on. “Claiming my prize,” he says by way of explanation when one of Harry’s eyes pop open, then climbs into bed beside him.

“Now? When we’re about to go to sleep?”

“Yes, now. Don’t pout, love, it doesn’t become you,” Louis insists, though it very much does. He lays on his side and tugs Harry’s waist until he gets the point and scoots closer to be Louis’ little spoon. “Thank you,” Louis whispers  into the back of Harry’s neck after a few quiet minutes.

The quiet, steady breaths and the silence that follows must mean that Harry is asleep already. Louis doesn’t mind all that much; if he moves his head back just a tad he can take in the whole length of Harry’s body, from the flush on his cheeks and the red of his lips to the new bruises appearing on his skin that will make him smile proudly at Louis tomorrow. He can see all that smooth skin, and he can see the glint of candlelight off the diamonds in Harry’s new watch where he’s curled his arm up to hold onto his ear as he sleeps.

“Ten thousand pounds wasn’t nearly as much as I should have spent on you,” he confesses in a tiny whisper. “I don’t have enough money to spoil you like you deserve. Ten thousand pounds isn’t even enough for this view.”

If Harry were awake, he would scowl at Louis and probably lecture him about all the ways that he should be spending his money that did _not_ involve Harry. But he isn’t. He’s asleep, and Louis pulls him closer and kisses his neck and falls asleep knowing that there are some things money _can’t_ buy, and Louis has every single one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be like a 2K birthday oneshot.... idk what happened but I think I like it. I'm sure you're all shocked as hell. Whatever, all's well that ends well! xoxo
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


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